_The cellar in Oldfield Road is at once workroom, shop, and living-room.
It is entered from the_ R. _corner by a door at the top of a flight of
some seven stairs. Its three windows are high up at the back--not
shop windows, but simply to give light. Each window has on it "William
Mossop, Practical Bootmaker," reversed as seen from the inside and is
illuminated dimly from outside by a neighbouring street lamp.
A door_ L. _leads to the bedroom. Up stage_ L. _is a small screen or
partition whose purpose is to conceal the sink. A shoemaker's bench,
leather and tackle are against the wall_, R., _above the fire-place.
Below the door_, L., _is a small dresser. Table_ R. C. _Seating
accommodation consists solely of the sofa and the two chairs taken from_
HOBSON'S, _now repaired. The sofa is_ L. _of the table, the two chairs_
R. _Crowded on the sofa are, in order, from down up,_ ALBERT, ALICE,
VICKEY, FRED.
_As the curtain rises, the four are standing, tea-cups in hand, saying
together "The Bride and Bridegroom." They drink and sit. General
laughter and conversation. On the chair down stage is_ MAGGIE. _From the
other chair_, C., _behind table_, WILL _rises, nervously, and rushes
his little speech like a child who has learnt a lesson. The table has
hot-house flowers (in a basin) and the remains of a meal at which tea
only has been drunk, and the feast is represented by the sections of
a large pork pie and a small wedding cake. As_ WILL _rises_, ALBERT
_hammers on the table_.
ALICE _suppresses him_. WILLIE. It's a very great pleasure to us to see
you here to-night. It's an honour you do us, and I assure you, speaking
for my--my wife, as well as for myself, that the--the--
MAGGIE (_in an undertone_). Generous.
WILLIE. Oh, aye. That's it. That the generous warmth of the sentiments
so cordially expressed by Mr. Beenstock and so enthusiastically seconded
by--no, I've gotten that wrong road round--expressed by Mr. Prosser and
seconded by Mr. Beenstock--will never be forgotten by either my life
partner or self--and--and I'd like to drink this toast to you in my own
house. Our guests, and may they all be married soon themselves.
MAGGIE (_rising and drinking with_ WILL). Our guests.
(WILL _and_ MAGGIE _sit. General laughter and conversation_.)
ALBERT (_solemnly rising_). In rising to respond--
ALICE (_tugging his coat and putting him into his seat_). Sit down.
We've had enough of speeches. I know men fancy themselves when they're
talking, but you've had one turn and you needn't start again.
ALBERT. But we ought to thank him, Alice.
ALICE. I dare say. But you'll not speak as well as he did, so we can
leave it with a good wind-up. I'm free to own you took me by surprise,
Will.
FREDDY. Very neat speech indeed. (_Rising_.)
VICKEY. Who taught you, Will?
WILLIE. I've been learning a lot lately.
ALICE. I thought that speech never came natural from Will.
MAGGIE. I'm educating him.
FREDDY. Very apt pupil, I must say.
MAGGIE. He'll do. Another twenty years and I know which of you three men
'ull be thought most of at the Bank.
FREDDY. That's looking ahead a bit.
MAGGIE. I'll admit it needs imagination to see it now.
ALBERT (_rising and moving slightly_ C.). Well, the start's all
right, you know. Snug little rooms. Shop of your own. And so on. I was
wondering where you raised the capital for this, Maggie.
MAGGIE. I? You mustn't call it my shop. It's his.
ALICE. Do you mean to tell me that Willie found the capital?
MAGGIE. He's the saving sort.
ALICE. He must be if you've done this out of what father used to pay
him.
MAGGIE. Well, we haven't. Not altogether. We've had help.
ALBERT. Ah!
VICKEY. It's a mystery to me where you got it from.
MAGGIE. Same place as those flowers, Albert.
ALBERT. Hot-house flowers, I see. (_He rises and examines them_.) I was
wondering where they came from.
(VICKEY _and_ FREDDY _smell flowers_.)
MAGGIE. Same place as the money, Albert.
ALBERT. Ah!
ALICE (_rising and following him_, C.). Well, I think we ought to be
getting home, Maggie.
MAGGIE (_rising, as do the rest_. VICKEY _and_ FREDDY _move up stage_).
I shouldn't marvel. I reckon Tubby's a bit tired of looking after the
shop by now, and if father's wakened up and come in--
ALICE. That's it. I'm a bit nervous.
MAGGIE. He'll have an edge on his temper. Come and put your hats on.
(_She is going_ L., _with_ ALICE _and_ VICKEY, _then stops_.)
Willie, we'll need this table when they're gone. You'd better be
clearing the pots away.
WILLIE (_by table_, R.) Yes, Maggie.
(MAGGIE _turns to_ L.)
FREDDY. But--you--
ALBERT. Oh, Lord!
(_They laugh_.)
MAGGIE (_quite calmly_). And you and Fred can just lend him a hand with
the washing up, Albert.
FREDDY. Me wash pots!
VICKEY (_really outraged_). Maggie, we're guests.
MAGGIE. I know. Only Albert laughed at Willie, and washing up 'ull maybe
make him think on that it's not allowed.
(_She ushers_ ALICE _and_ VICKEY _out_, L., _and follows_. WILLIE
_begins to put pots on tray which he gets from behind screen, up_ L.)
ALBERT (_after he and_ FRED _have looked at each other, then at_ WILL,
_then at each other again_). Are you going to wash up pots?
FREDDY. Are you?
ALBERT. I look at it like this myself. All being well, you and I are
marrying into this family and we know what Maggie is. If we start giving
in to her now, she'll be a nuisance to us all our lives.
FREDDY. That's right enough, but there's this plan of hers to get us
married. Are you prepared to work it for us?
ALBERT. I'm not. Anything but--
FREDDY. Then till she's done it we're to keep the sweet side of Maggie.
ALBERT. But, washing pots! (_Moves down_ L.)
(_There is a pause. They look at_ WILL, _who has brought the tray from
behind the screen and is now clearing up the table_.)
FREDDY. What would you do in our place, Will?
WILLIE. Please yourselves. I'm getting on with what she told me.
FREDDY. You're married to her. We aren't.
ALBERT. What do you need the table for in such a hurry?
WILLIE; Nay, I'm not in any hurry myself.
FREDDY. Maggie wants it for something.
WILLIE. It'll be for my lessons, I reckon. She's schooling me.
FREDDY. And don't you want to learn, then?
WILLIE (_moves_ C.). 'Tisn't that. I--just don't want to be rude to
you--turning you out so early. I don't see you need to go away so soon.
(_Crosses below table_.)
ALBERT. Why not?
WILLIE. I'm fond of a bit of company.
ALBERT. Do you want company on your wedding night?
WILLIE. I don't favour your going so soon. (_Crosses_ C. _again_.)
FREDDY. He's afraid to be alone with her. That's what it is. He's shy of
his wife.
(_They laugh_.)
WILLIE. That's a fact. I've not been married before, you see. I've not
been left alone with her, either. Up to now she's been coming round to
where I lodged at Tubby Wadlow's to give me my lessons. It's different
now, and I freely own I'm feeling awkward-like. I'd be deeply obliged if
you would stay on a bit to help to--to thaw the ice for me.
FREDDY. You've been engaged to her, haven't you?
WILLIE. Aye, but it weren't for long. And you see, Maggie's not the sort
you get familiar with.
FREDDY. You had quite long enough to thaw the ice. It's not our job to
do your melting for you. (_Moves away_ R.)
ALBERT. No. Fred, these pots need washing. We will wash them.
(ALBERT _carries tray behind screen. Water runs. He is seen flourishing
towels_. FRED _is following when_ WILLIE _calls him back and takes tray
to table_.)
WILLIE. Fred, would you like it yourself with--with a wench like Maggie?
(_Goes_ R. C.)
FREDDY. That's not the point. It wasn't me she married.
WILLIE. It's that being alone with her that worries me, and I did think
you'd stand by a fellow man to make things not so strange at first.
ALBERT (_coming down, with a dishcloth_). That's not the way we look at
it. Hurry up with those cups, Fred. (_Goes to_ FRED _up stage_ R.)
(MAGGIE _enters with_ VICKEY _and_ ALICE _in outdoor clothes_.)
MAGGIE. Have you broken anything yet, Albert?
ALBERT (_indignantly_). Broken? No. (_Takes cup from tray and wipes
it_.)
MAGGIE. Too slow to, I expect.
FREDDY. I must say you don't show much gratitude.
ALBERT. Aren't you at all surprised to find us doing this?
MAGGIE. Surprised? I told you to do it.
FREDDY. Yes, but--(_Takes tray up stage_, L.)
MAGGIE (_taking towel from him_). You can stop now. I'll finish when
you're gone. (_Moves down_ R.)
(_Knock at door upstairs_, R.)
ALICE. Who's that?
MAGGIE. Some one who can't read, I reckon. You hung that card on door,
Will?
WILLIE. Aye, it's there. And you wrote it, Maggie.
MAGGIE. I knew better than to trust to you. "Business suspended for the
day" it says, and they that can't read it can go on knocking.
HOBSON (_off_ R. _upstairs, after another knock_). Are you in, Maggie?
VICKEY (_terrified_). It's father!
(_General consternation_.)
ALBERT. Oh, Lord!
MAGGIE. What's the matter? Are you afraid of him?
FREDDY. Well, I think, all things considered, and seeing--
MAGGIE. All right. We'll consider 'em. You can go into the bedroom, the
lot of you.... No, not you, Willie. The rest. I'll shout when I want
you.
ALICE. When he's gone.
MAGGIE. It'll be before he's gone.
(MAGGIE _crosses to_ L. _with them_.)
VICKEY. But we don't want--
MAGGIE. Is this your house or mine?
VICKEY. It's your cellar.
MAGGIE. And I'm in charge of it.
(_The four go into bedroom_. VICKEY _starts to argue_. ALBERT _opens
the door_. VICKEY _and_ ALICE _go out followed by_ FREDDY _and_ ALBERT.
VICKEY _is pushed inside_. WILL _is going to stairs_.) You sit you
still, and don't forget you're gaffer here. I'll open door. (WILLIE
_sits in chair above table_. MAGGIE _goes upstairs and opens the door.
Enter_ HOBSON _to top stair_.)
HOBSON (_with some slight apology_). Well, Maggie.
MAGGIE (_uninvitingly_). Well, father.
HOBSON (_without confidence_). I'll come in.
MAGGIE (_standing in his way_). Well, I don't know. I'll have to ask the
master about that.
HOBSON. Eh? The master?
MAGGIE. You and him didn't part on the best of terms, you know. (_Over
the railings_.) Will, it's my father. Is he to come in?
WILLIE (_loudly and boldly_). Aye, let him come.
(HOBSON _comes downstairs_. MAGGIE _closes door behind him and follows_.
HOBSON _stares round at the cellar_.)
HOBSON. You don't sound cordial about your invitation, young man.
WILLIE (_rises and goes_ C.). Nay, but I am. (_Shaking hands for a long
time_.) I'm right down glad to see you, Mr. Hobson. (MAGGIE _comes down_
R.) It makes the wedding-day complete-like, you being her father and
I--I hope you'll see your way to staying a good long while.
HOBSON. Well--
MAGGIE. That's enough, Will. You don't need to overdo it. You can sit
down for five minutes, father. That sofa 'ull bear your weight. It's
been tested.
(HOBSON _sits on sofa_, R. C. WILLIE _goes back to the chair_, R.)
WILLIE (_taking up teapot_). There's nobbut tea to drink and I reckon
what's in the pot is stewed, so I'll--
MAGGIE (_taking pot off him as he moves to fire-place with it_). You'll
not do owt of sort. Father likes his liquids strong.
WILLIE (_down_ R. _of table_). A piece of pork pie now, Mr. Hobson?
HOBSON (_groaning_). Pork pie!
MAGGIE (_sharply_). You'll be sociable now you're here, I hope. (_She
pours tea at table, top end_.)
HOBSON. It wasn't sociability that brought me, Maggie.
MAGGIE. What was it, then?
HOBSON. Maggie, I'm in disgrace. A sore and sad misfortune's fallen on
me.
MAGGIE (_cutting_). Happen a piece of wedding cake 'ull do you good.
HOBSON (_shuddering_). It's sweet.
MAGGIE. That's natural in cake.
(MAGGIE _sits in chair above table_.)
HOBSON. I've gotten such a head.
MAGGIE. Aye. But wedding cake's a question of heart. There'd be no bride
cakes made at all if we thought first about our heads. I'm quite aware
it's foolishness, but I've a wish to see my father sitting at my table
eating my wedding cake on my wedding-day.
HOBSON. It's a very serious thing I came about, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's not more serious than knowing that you wish us well.
HOBSON. Well, Maggie, you know my way. When a thing's done it's done.
You've had your way and done what you wanted. I'm none proud of the
choice you made and I'll not lie and say I am, but I've shaken your
husband's hand, and that's a sign for you. The milk's spilt and I'll not
cry.
MAGGIE (_holding plate_). Then there's your cake, and you can eat it.
HOBSON. I've given you my word there's no ill feeling. (_Pushes cake
away_.)
MAGGIE. So now we'll have the deed. (_Pushes it back_.)
HOBSON. You're a hard woman. (_He eats_.) You've no consideration for
the weakness of old age.
MAGGIE. Finished?
HOBSON. Pass me that tea.
(_She passes: he drinks_.)
That's easier.
MAGGIE. Now tell me what it is you came about?
HOBSON. I'm in sore trouble, Maggie.
MAGGIE (_rising and going towards door_, L.). Then I'll leave you with
my husband to talk it over.
HOBSON. Eh?
MAGGIE. You'll not be wanting me. Women are only in your way.
HOBSON (_rising and going_ C.). Maggie, you re not going to desert me in
the hour of my need, are you?
MAGGIE. Surely to goodness you don't want a woman to help you after all
you've said! Will 'ull do his best, I make no doubt. (_She goes towards
door_.) Give me a call when you've finished, Will.
HOBSON (_following her_). Maggie! It's private.
MAGGIE. Why, yes. I'm going and you can discuss it man to man with no
fools of women about.
HOBSON. I tell you I've come to see you, not him. It's private from him.
MAGGIE. Private from Will? Nay, it isn't. Will's in the family--(_comes
back a little_),--and you've nowt to say to me that can't be said to
him.
HOBSON. I've to tell you this with him there?
MAGGIE. Will and me's one.
WILLIE. Sit down, Mr. Hobson.
MAGGIE. You call him father now.
WILLIE (_astonished_). Do I?
HOBSON. Does he?
MAGGIE. He does. Sit down, Will.
(WILL _sits right of table_. MAGGIE _stands at the head of the table_.
HOBSON _sits on sofa_.)
Now, if you're ready, father, we are. What's the matter?
HOBSON. That--(_producing the blue paper_)--that's the matter.
(MAGGIE _accepts and passes it to_ WILL _and goes behind his chair.
He is reading upside down. She bends over chair and turns it right way
up_.)
MAGGIE. What is it, Will?
HOBSON (_banging table_). Ruin, Maggie, that's what it is! Ruin and
bankruptcy. Am I vicar's warden at St. Philip's or am I not? Am I Hobson
of Hobson's Boot Shop on Chapel Street, Salford? Am I a respectable
ratepayer and the father of a family or--
MAGGIE (_who has been reading over_ WILL'S _shoulder_). It's an action
for damages for trespass, I see.
HOBSON. It's a stab in the back, it's an unfair, un-English, cowardly
way of taking a mean advantage of a casual accident.
MAGGIE. Did you trespass?
HOBSON. Maggie, I say it solemnly, it is all your fault. I had an
accident. I don't deny it. I'd been in the "Moonraker's" and I'd stayed
too long. And why? Why did I stay too long? To try to forget that I'd a
thankless child, to erase from the tablets of memory the recollection
of your conduct. That was the cause of it. And the result, the blasting,
withering result? I fell into that cellar. I slept in that cellar and I
awoke to this catastrophe. Lawyers... law-costs... publicity... ruin.
MAGGIE (_moving round table to_ C.). I'm still asking you. Was it an
accident? Or did you trespass?
HOBSON. It's an accident. As plain as Salford Town Hall it's an
accident, but they that live by law have twisted ways of putting things
that make white show as black. I'm in their grip at last. I've kept
away from lawyers all my life, I've hated lawyers, and they've got their
chance to make me bleed for it. I've dodged them, and they've caught me
in the end. They'll squeeze me dry for it.
WILLIE. My word, and that's summat like a squeeze and all.
(HOBSON _stares at him_.)
MAGGIE. I can see it's serious. I shouldn't wonder if you didn't lose
some trade from this.
HOBSON. Wonder! (_Rising and moving_ C.) It's as certain as Christmas.
My good-class customers are not going to buy their boots from a man
who's stood up in open court and had to acknowledge he was overcome at
12 o'clock in the morning. They'll not remember it was private grief
that caused it all. They'll only think the worse of me because I
couldn't control my daughter better than to let her go and be the cause
of sorrow to me in my age. That's what you've done. Brought this on me,
you two, between you.
WILLIE. Do you think it will get into the paper, Maggie?
MAGGIE. Yes, for sure. You'll see your name in the _Salford Reporter_,
father.
HOBSON. _Salford Reporter_! Yes, and more. When there is ruin and
disaster, and outrageous fortune overwhelms a man of my importance to
the world, it isn't only the _Salford Reporter_ that takes note of it.
This awful cross that's come to me will be recorded in the _Manchester
Guardian_ for the whole of Lancashire to read.
WILLIE. Eh, by gum, think of that! To have your name appearing in
the _Guardian_! Why, it's very near worth while to be ruined for the
pleasure of reading about yourself in a printed paper.
HOBSON (_sits sofa_). It's there for others to read besides me, my lad.
WILLIE. Aye, you're right. I didn't think of that. This 'ull give a
lot of satisfaction to a many I could name. Other people's troubles
is mostly what folks read the paper for, and I reckon it's twice the
pleasure to them when it's trouble of a man they know themselves. (_He
is perfectly simple and has no malicious intention_.)
HOBSON. To hear you talk it sounds like a pleasure to you.
WILLIE (_sincerely_). Nay, it's not. You've ate my wedding cake
and you've shook my hand. We're friends, I hope, and I were nobbut
meditating like a friend. I always think it's best to look on the worst
side of things first, then whatever chances can't be worse than you
looked for. There's St. Philip's now. I don't suppose you'll go on being
vicar's warden after this to do, and it brought you a powerful lot of
customers from the church, did that.
HOBSON (_turning to her_). I'm getting a lot of comfort from your
husband, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's about what you deserve. (_Goes to him_.)
HOBSON. Have you got any more consolation for me, Will?
WILLIE (_aggrieved_). I only spoke what came into my mind.
HOBSON. Well, have you spoken it all?
WILLIE. I can keep my mouth shut if you'd rather.
HOBSON. Don't strain yourself, Will Mossop. When a man's mind is full of
thoughts like yours, they're better out than in. You let them come, my
lad. They'll leave a cleaner place behind.
WILLIE. I'm not much good at talking, and I always seem to say wrong
things when I do talk. I'm sorry if my well-meant words don't suit your
taste, but I thought you came here for advice.
HOBSON. I didn't come to you, you jumped-up cock-a-hooping--(_Rising_.)
MAGGIE. That 'ull do, father. (_Pushes him down_.) My husband's _trying_
to help you.
HOBSON (_glares impatiently for a time, then meekly says_). Yes, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Now about this accident of yours.
HOBSON. Yes, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's the publicity that you're afraid of most.
HOBSON. It's being dragged into a court of law at all, me that's voted
right all through my life and been a sound supporter of the Queen and
Constitution.
MAGGIE. Then we must try to keep it out of court. (_Moves away to_ L.
C.)
HOBSON (_rising and moving to_ C.). If there are lawyers in Heaven,
Maggie, which I doubt, they may keep cases out of courts there. On earth
a lawyer's job's to squeeze a man and squeeze him where his squirming's
seen the most--in court.
MAGGIE. I've heard of cases being settled out of court, in private.
HOBSON. In private? Yes, I dare say, and all the worse for that. It's
done amongst themselves in lawyers' offices behind closed doors so no
one can see they're squeezing twice as hard in private as they'd dare
to do in public. There's some restraint demanded by a public place, but
privately! It'll cost a fortune to settle this in private, Maggie.
MAGGIE. I make no doubt it's going to cost you something, but you'd
rather do it privately than publicly?
HOBSON (_coming back to sofa and sitting again_). If only it were not a
lawyer's office.
MAGGIE. You can settle it with the lawyer out of his office. You can
settle with him here.
(_She goes_ L. _and opens door. Then comes down_ L.) Albert!
(_Enter_ ALBERT, _who leaves door open. He comes_ C.)
This is Mr. Prosser, of Prosser, Pilkington, and Prosser.
HOBSON (_amazed_). He is!
MAGGIE. Yes.
HOBSON (_incredulously, rising_). You're a lawyer!
ALBERT. Yes, I'm a lawyer.
HOBSON (_with disgust almost too deep for words_). At your age!
MAGGIE (_going up to door_). Come out, all of you. (_She moves to top
end of table_.)
(_There is reluctance inside, then_ VICKEY, ALICE _and_ FRED _enter and
stand in a row_, L.)
HOBSON. Alice! Vickey!
MAGGIE. Family gathering. This is Mr. Beenstock, of Beenstock & Co.
FREDDY. How do you do?
HOBSON. What! Here!
(_The situation is plainly beyond his mused brain's capacity_.)
MAGGIE. When you've got a thing to settle, you need all the parties to
be present.
HOBSON. But there are so many of them. Where have they all come from?
MAGGIE. My bedroom.
HOBSON. Your--? Maggie, I wish you'd explain before my brain gives way.
MAGGIE. It's quite simple. I got them here because I expected you.
HOBSON. You expected me!
MAGGIE. Yes. You're in trouble.
HOBSON (_shaking his head, then as if finding an outlet, pouncing on_
ALICE). What's it got to do with Alice and Vickey? What are they doing
here ? What's happening to the shop? (_Moves_ C.)
ALICE. Tubby Wadlow's looking after it.
HOBSON. And is it Tubby's job to look after the shop?
VICKEY. He'd got no other job. The shop's so slack since Maggie left.
HOBSON (_swelling with rage_). And do you run that shop? Do you give
orders there? Do you decide when you can put your hats on and walk out
of it?
MAGGIE. They come out because it's my wedding-day, father. It's reason
enough, and Will and me 'ull do the same for them. We'll close the shop
and welcome on their wedding-days.
HOBSON. Their wedding-days! That's a long time off. It'll be many a
year before there's another wedding in this family, I give you my word.
(_Turns to_ MAGGIE.) One daughter defying me is quite enough.
ALBERT. Hadn't we better get to business, sir?
HOBSON (_turning on him_). Young man, don't abuse a noble word. You're
a lawyer. By your own admission you're a lawyer. Honest men live by
business and lawyers live by law.
ALBERT. In this matter, sir, I am following the instructions of my
client, Mr. Beenstock, and the remark you have just let fall, before
witnesses, appears to me to bear a libellous reflection on the action of
my client.
HOBSON. What! So it's libel now. Isn't trespass and... and spying on
trade secrets enough for you, you blood-sucking--(_To_ ALBERT.)
ALBERT. One moment, Mr. Hobson. You can call me what you like--
HOBSON. And I shall. You--
ALBERT. But I wish to remind you, in your own interests, that abuse of
a lawyer is remembered in the costs. Now, my client tells me he is
prepared to settle this matter out of court. Personally, I don't advise
him to, because we should probably get higher damages in court. But Mr.
Beenstock has no desire to be vindictive. He remembers your position,
your reputation for respectability, and--
HOBSON. How much?
ALBERT. Er--I beg your pardon?
HOBSON. I'm not so fond of the sound of your voice as you are. What's
the figure?
ALBERT. The sum we propose, which will include my ordinary costs, but
not any additional costs incurred by your use of defamatory language to
me, is one thousand pounds.
HOBSON. What!
MAGGIE. It isn't.
HOBSON. One thousand pounds for tumbling down a cellar! Why, I might
have broken my leg. (_Moves away to_ R.)
ALBERT. That is in the nature of an admission, Mr. Hobson. Our flour
bags saved your legs from fracture and I am therefore inclined to add to
the sum I have stated a reasonable estimate of the doctor's bill we
have saved you by protecting your legs with our bags. (_Turns towards_
FREDDY.)
(HOBSON _sits_ R.)
MAGGIE. Eh, Albert Prosser, I can see you're going to get on in the
world, but you needn't be greedy here. That one thousand's too much.
(_Comes_ C.)
ALBERT. We thought--
MAGGIE. Then you can think again.
FREDDY. But--
MAGGIE. If there are any more signs of greediness from you two,
there'll be a counter-action for personal damages due to your criminal
carelessness in leaving your cellar flap open.
HOBSON. (_rising_). Maggie, you've saved me. I'll bring that action.
I'll show them up.
MAGGIE. You're not damaged, and one lawyer's quite enough. But he'll
be more reasonable now. I know perfectly well what father can afford to
pay, and it's not a thousand pounds nor anything like a thousand pounds.
HOBSON. Not so much of your can't afford, Maggie. You'll make me out a
pauper.
MAGGIE (_turns to HOBSON_). You can afford 500 pounds and you're going
to pay 500 pounds.
HOBSON. Oh, but... there's a difference between affording and paying.
MAGGIE. You can go to the courts and be reported in the papers if you
like. (_Moves to above table_, R.C.)
HOBSON. It's the principle I care about. I'm being beaten by a lawyer.
VICKEY (_going to_ HOBSON). Father, dear, how can you be beaten when
they wanted a thousand pounds and you're only going to give 500 pounds?
HOBSON. I hadn't thought of that.
VICKEY. It's they who are beaten.
HOBSON. I'd take a good few beatings myself at the price, Vickey. Still,
I want this keeping out of court.
ALBERT. Then we can take it as settled?
HOBSON. Do you want to see the money before you believe me? Is that your
nasty lawyer's way?
ALBERT. Not at all, Mr. Hobson. Your word is as good as your bond.
(_Moves back_ L.)
VICKEY. It's settled! It's settled! Hurrah! Hurrah! (_Moves_ L. _to_
FREDDY.)
HOBSON. Well, I don't see what you have to cheer about, Vickey. I'm not
to be dragged to public scorn, but you know this is a tidy bit of money
to be going out of the family. (_Sits sofa_, R. C.)
MAGGIE. It's not going out of the family, father. (_Moves up_ R.)
HOBSON. I don't see how you make it out.
MAGGIE. Their wedding-day is not so far off as you thought, now there's
the half of five hundred pounds apiece for them to make a start on.
(ALBERT _and_ ALICE, FRED _and_ VICKEY _stand arm in arm_, L.) HOBSON.
You mean to tell me--
MAGGIE. You won't forget you've passed your word, will you father?
HOBSON (_rising_). I've been diddled. (_Moves_ C.) It's a plant. It--
MAGGIE. It takes two daughters off your hands at once, and clears your
shop of all the fools of women that used to lumber up the place.
ALICE. It will be much easier for you without us in your way, father.
HOBSON. Aye, and you can keep out of my way and all. Do you hear that,
all of you?
VICKEY. Father...!
HOBSON (_picking up his hat_). I'll run that shop with men and--and I'll
show Salford how it should be run. Don't you imagine there'll be room
for you when you come home crying and tired of your fine husbands. I'm
rid of ye, and it's a lasting riddance, mind. I'll pay this money,
that you've robbed me of, and that's the end of it. All of you. You,
especially, Maggie. I'm not blind yet, and I can see who 'tis I've got
to thank for this. (_He goes to foot of stairs_.)
MAGGIE. Don't be vicious, father.
HOBSON. Will Mossop, I'm sorry for you. (_Over banisters_.) Take you for
all in all, you're the best of the bunch. You're a backward lad, but you
know your trade and it's an honest one.
(HOBSON _is going up the stairs_.)
ALICE. So does my Albert know his trade. (_Goes_ R. C.)
HOBSON (_half-way up-stairs_). I'll grant you that. He knows his trade.
He's good at robbery. (ALICE _shows great indignation_.) And I've to
have it on my conscience that my daughter's wed a lawyer and an employer
of lawyers.
VICKEY. It didn't worry your conscience to keep us serving in the shop
at no wages.
HOBSON. I kept you, didn't I? It's some one else's job to victual you
in future. Aye, you may grin, you two, but girls don't live on air. Your
penny buns 'ull cost you tuppence now--and more. Wait, till the families
begin to come. Don't come to me for keep, that's all. (_Going_.)
ALICE. Father!
HOBSON (_turning_). Aye. You may father me. But that's a piece of work
I've finished with. I've done with fathering, and they're beginning it.
They'll know what marrying a woman means before so long. They're putting
chains upon themselves and I have thrown the shackles off. I've suffered
thirty years and more and I'm a free man from to-day. Lord, what a thing
you're taking on! You poor, poor wretches. You're red-nosed robbers, but
you're going to pay for it.
(_He opens door and exits_ R.)
MAGGIE (_coming_ C.). You'd better arrange to get married quick. Alice
and Vickey will have a sweet time with him.
FREDDY. Can they go home at all!
MAGGIE. Why not?
FREDDY. After what he said?
MAGGIE. He'll not remember half of it. He's for the "Moonraker's"
now--if there's time. What is the time?
ALBERT. Time we were going, Maggie--(_going to her_, C.);--you'll be
glad to see the back of us. (_He shows_ MAGGIE _his watch_.)
WILLIE. No. No. (_Rising_.) I wouldn't dream of asking you to go.
MAGGIE (_moving up to get hats_). Then I would. It's high time we turned
you out. There are your hats.
(_She gets_ ALBERT'S _and_ FRED'S _hats from rack_, R.)
Good night.
(ALBERT _and_ FREDDY _go upstairs_. MAGGIE _comes back_, C.)
Good night, Vickey.
VICKEY (_with a quick kiss_). Good night, Maggie.
(VICKEY _goes upstairs. She and_ FREDDY _go out_.)
MAGGIE. Good night, Alice.
ALICE. Good night, Maggie. (_The same quick kiss_.) And thank you.
MAGGIE. Oh, that! (_She goes with her to stairs_.) I'll see you again
soon, only don't come round here too much, because Will and me's going
to be busy and you'll maybe find enough to do yourselves with getting
wed.
ALICE. I dare say. (_Upstairs_.)
(_The general exit is continuous, punctuated with laughter and merry
"Good nights!"_)
MAGGIE. Send us word when the day is.
ALBERT. We'll be glad to see you at the wedding.
MAGGIE. We'll come to that. You'll be too grand for us afterwards.
ALBERT. Oh, no, Maggie.
MAGGIE. Well, happen we'll be catching up with you before so long. We're
only starting here. Good night.
ALBERT & ALICE Good night, Maggie.
(_They go out, closing door_. MAGGIE _turns to_ WILL, _putting her hands
on his shoulders. He starts_.)
MAGGIE. Now you've heard what I've said of you to-night. In twenty years
you're going to be thought more of than either of your brothers-in-law.
WILLIE. I heard you say it, Maggie.
MAGGIE. And we're to make it good. I'm not a boaster, Will. And it's to
be in less than twenty years, and all.
WILLIE. Well, I dunno. They've a long start on us.
MAGGIE. And you've got me. Your slate's in the bedroom. Bring it out.
I'll have this table clear by the time you come back.
(_She moves round to_ R. _of table and hustles off the last remains of
the meal, putting the flowers on the mantel and takes off cloth, placing
it over the back of the chair_, R. WILL _goes to bedroom and returns
with a slate and slate pencil. The slate is covered with writing. He
puts it on table_.)
MAGGIE. Off with your Sunday coat now. You don't want to make a mess of
that.
(_He takes coat off and gets rag from behind screen and brings it back
to table. He hangs his coat on a peg_, R.)
What are you doing with that mopping rag?
WILLIE. I was going to wash out what's on the slate.
MAGGIE. Let me see it first. That's what you did last night at Tubby's
after I came here?
WILLIE. Yes, Maggie.
MAGGIE (_sitting at table up_ R. C., _reading_). "There is always room
at the top." (_Washing it out_.) Your writing's improving, Will. I'll
set you a short copy for to-night, because it's getting late and we've
a lot to do in the morning. (_Writing_.) "Great things grow from small."
Now, then, you can sit down here and copy that!
(_He takes her place at the table_. MAGGIE _watches a moment, then goes
to fire-place and fingers the flowers_.)
I'll put these flowers of Mrs. Hepworth's behind the fire, Will. We'll
not want litter in the place come working time to-morrow.
(_She takes up basin, stops, looks at_ WILL, _who is bent over his
slate, and takes a flower out, throwing the rest behind the fire and
going to bedroom with the one_.)
WILLIE (_looking up_). You're saving one.
MAGGIE (_caught in an act of sentiment and apologetically_). I thought
I'd press it in my Bible for a keepsake, Will. I'm not beyond liking to
be reminded of this day.
(_She looks at screen and yawns_.)
Lord, I'm tired. I reckon I'll leave those pots till morning. It's a
slackish way of starting, but I don't get married every day.
WILLIE (_industrious at his slate_). No.
MAGGIE. I'm for my bed. You finish that copy before you come.
WILLIE. Yes, Maggie.
(_Exit_ MAGGIE _to bedroom, with the flower. She closes door_. WILL
_copies, repeats letters and words as he writes them slowly, finishes,
then rises and rakes out fire. He looks shyly at bedroom door, sits
and takes his boots off. He rises, boots in hand, moves towards door,
hesitates, and turns back, puts boots down at door, then returns to
table and takes off his collar. Then hesitates again, finally makes up
his mind, puts out light, and lies down on sofa with occasional glances
at the bedroom door. At first he faces the fire. He is uncomfortable.
He turns over and faces the door. In a minute_ MAGGIE _opens the bedroom
door. She has a candle and is in a plain calico night-dress. She comes
to_ WILL, _shines the light on him, takes him by the ear, and returns
with him to bedroom_).
CURTAIN.
[Illustration.] Red papered chamber of an old-fashioned design.
Antimacassars on chairs. All sorts of china ornaments. Dogs, vases,
artificial flowers, lace curtains on window, books, boot boxes, cushions
with lace covers, fire lit. Gas brackets each side of mantelpiece. Old
pictures, velvet-framed views.